


A Long Night

by Ofdragonsandwolves



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 21:10:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16730691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ofdragonsandwolves/pseuds/Ofdragonsandwolves
Summary: "Ned Stark protected you for his entire life, as a father does for his son. He saved you from the assassins that would have came for you in the night, at the hands of his oldest friend! Whatever complaints you have for his deception, do not deny that he is your father. It’s an insult to his memory.”





	A Long Night

Bran’s voice echoed around them, though the flat and emotionless words had been uttered hours before. Jon’s denial and his disgust was fresh. If Daenerys looked at him, she would see it staring right at her.  
“I will not beg, Jon Snow,” She spoke firmly, keeping her face turned away so he would not see the tears in her eyes. “If this is what you truly wish, I will not fight you.”  
“This is how it must be. You are my aunt.” He almost stumbled over the word and still made a slight choking sound.  
“Blood of my blood.” Daenerys whispered in agreement and turned to face him. “You are a Targaryen, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not. We have married sibling to sibling for centuries, since before the Doom of Valyria. When Aegon the Conqueror took and united Westeros it was with his sisters. His wives. Even the Starks, the only heritage you accept-though your name remains Snow-has married cousin to cousin and uncle to niece. This is not the mountain that you are making it. We were not raised together, we did not know that we were of the same blood when we made love, when we married. Though had you been raised as a Targaryen, you would see this as the gift that it is.”  
“Gift? This is not a gift, Daenerys. This is a tragedy.” He practically sneered the words at her, his face a mask of rage. “My whole life has been a tragedy.”  
“Poor Jon.” She tutted mockingly as she finally turned to meet his gaze, not flinching from the anger he directed at her. “Raised by a father that loved…”  
“Uncle. I was raised by my uncle!” He cut her off forcefully, but she was not cowed by the anger in his eyes.  
“You were raised by your father! He took you in as a babe, brought you here among the North and claimed you as his! He loved you, he raised you among his own trueborn children, never denied you anything he could provide. Ned Stark protected you for his entire life, as a father does for his son. He saved you from the assassins that would have came for you in the night, at the hands of his oldest friend! Whatever complaints you have for his deception, do not deny that he is your father. It’s an insult to his memory.” Daenerys furiously defended the man that she had once professed to hate, because he had raised this beautiful, honorable, stupid man standing in front of her.  
“Aye, you’re right.” Jon softly agreed, but she was still furious.  
“I grew up with only my brother Viserys. He was only a small child when we were forced from our home, from our country. We had to flee in the darkest time of night in hopes that the assassins would not find us. We lived a life of fear, of always looking over our shoulders. It fell to him to teach me of our family, of our heritage. The last Targaryen’s in the world. Would you have preferred that life?” She had slipped into the calm and measured cadence of when she held court, her hands clasped in front of her, not unlike their first meeting.  
“Why are you telling me this?” Jon cut in and she blinked at the interruption.  
“This is your family history too.” Daenerys informed him, her eyes softening for a moment when she looked at him, before she continued. “When I was very young, Viserys was warm and he was kind. He would play with me for hours, while he taught me who we truly were. Not mere orphans, but a Princess and the Heir to the Throne. But the years were not kind to us. We moved from place to place, selling the jewels that we had. Viserys sold our mothers crown to feed us and it was like a part of him died when that happened. The Beggar King they called him. Mocked him. He became hard and cruel and thought he was a dragon because of it. He sold me into marriage for an army that he would have never been able to lead. Threatened me and my unborn child in a sacred place. I watched as Drogo gave him the promised crown and then killed him in front of me. Viserys was not a dragon in the end, merely a sad and frightened child calling out for help and protection that he never received in life. I have seen things that even you would not believe. Cruelty that you can not begin to comprehend. And yet, Viserys is still the cruelest person that I have ever met. Do you know why that is?”  
“No, why?” Jon asked, looking stunned at the story she was painting, stunned she had asked him such a question.  
“Even after everything he did, I loved him. He was my brother. When I was small, I thought that I would marry him and when he-somehow-took the Iron Throne back and we could go home, I would rule at his side. We would produce many little silver haired babies and marvel over their purple eyes. The Targaryen restoration would be complete and the people would cheer in the streets for our return. A foolish dream, I know that now. The commonfolk do not care who rules, as long as they have food and protection. But the Targaryen dynasty was the greatest in history and it fell on our shoulders. A heavy burden. As my brother, he had a duty to protect me. When he failed so abysmally, it broke my heart. Loving someone gives them power.” She looked him in the eye and saw the second her meaning sunk in, he flushed and turned away from her, so she continued.  
“Viserys taught me many lessons in life. He helped raise me, taught me many languages, and taught me what Targaryens are. He taught me many more cruel things, of course. I try not to dwell on those. I care for many people, Jon. I want to make this world a better place and when I leave this life, I want to leave a positive legacy. But I only love Dragons, for Dragons are the only things that are truly mine, as I am theirs. It was your Dragon blood that called to me, though I did not know it at the time. We were meant to find one another. We are the last Targaryen’s.” For a moment she thought that she had gotten through to him, that he understood what she was saying.  
“I am not a Dragon. I am of the North. Born and raised and already claimed as a Wolf. It is what and who I wish to be.” There was so much heartbreak in this room, that the hair was heavy with it, even the candle light dulled with the oppressive air.  
“Very well. Then I release you from the binding of our marriage.” Daenerys turned from him, her hands pressed against her lower stomach. The words came out strong and clear, but it felt as if she were being struck in her middle and air was hard to come by.  
“Can...can you do that?” Jon’s voice was low and husky with the misery he was inflicting on both of them.  
“There were no witnesses.”  
“The Old Gods witnessed.” He countered and she rolled her eyes as she spun to face him.  
“Here in this room, we can be honest. Neither of us believes in any Gods. The vows were spoken in front of trees and not bind us without witnesses. If they did, I am the Queen and still release us from the vows. You are free from my particular offensiveness.” She flung her arms open wide and dropped them to her side, looking like a lost child for a moment with the way her chin wobbled.  
“You do not offend me, Daenerys. If there was another way…” He reached out and grabbed her hand, but she pulled her arm away, and gave him a look of fury.  
“There is.” Daenerys cut in harsly. “You rejected it. Me. There is no further need to discuss a marriage that we are no longer bound to. You have made your choice, without taking my words or wishes into consideration. You refuse to allow yourself time to process this and see if you would change your mind in the future. There was another way, several other ways, and you do not see any of them. Please spare me your empty platitudes.”  
“Where do we go from here?” Jon looked tormented, as if we wanted to reach out and grab her but held himself back aware that by doing so, he was betraying her more than any other ever had. “Will you stay and fight still?”  
She looked for a moment as if he had slapped her, before her upper lip curled derisively at him. She had never looked at him in such a way and he found himself feeling very small beneath the anger and disappointment.  
“I lost my child in this war.” Viserion. For a moment he had forgotten and was ashamed of himself. “There have been no dragons in a century and I brought three back from stone. I nursed them at my own breast, fed them as others starved around us. As I starved. Viserion’s sacrifice will not be in vein. I will help you defeat the Night King and make this world safe from that death which consumes all. When that war is won, I will name you as Warden in the North, though Sansa deserves that title in her own right. I will go south with my dragons. And it will be both of them, Jon Snow. I will accept nothing less. I will take Cersei from the throne that my ancestors forged. We needn’t see each other much after that.”  
Her dragons. Her ancestors. Jon knew that she was accepting his wishes and yet her words were a rejection that he shouldn’t feel. He felt chilled by her tone of voice. If one or both of her remaining dragons did not survive, what wrath would he face? What would Westeros face?  
“Aye, and then what? What do we do when all of these wars are won?”  
“I will rebuild what is left from the ashes. The people will need a strong and kind Queen to help them recover. I will lead them into a brighter future. I suppose you will stay here, in the North that you love so much. Perhaps you will meet a woman and wed, having lots of fat Northern babies. Do make sure that you have witnesses for the next marriage.”  
Agony, this was agony. Thinking of him loving another, of holding their children in his strong arms made her almost wish for death. What of her? Perhaps in time, there would be new dragon eggs to hatch. New dragons to love and help raise. Drogon and she could ride for far off places and she then would return to rule her kingdom. It would be a happiness, of sorts. But there were no more Targaryens, beyond the two in this room. Who would ride those dragons? She eyed Jon. Would those future children of his be riders? He was a dragon, whether or not he accepted that. His children would be too. The Targaryen blood would live on. Suddenly she knew that she would name one of his children as heir. A Targaryen would rule beyond her after all. Her knees almost buckled under the weight of her thought, of her loss. Surely the oblivion would be better than this.  
“You will not marry?” Jon persisted, forcing her to think of long and lonely years without him. “No companionship?”  
When his child, her heir, was old enough, when she was secure that they would follow the vision she was creating for a better future, she would climb on Drogon’s back and fly far away from this country. She had given up so much on her quest for the throne. For peace in the realm. She gave a brief and longing thought to the house with the red door. All she ever wanted was a home of her own, not this never ending cycle of war and death. Surely that wasn't such a bad thing to dream of? Dragons plant no trees. In her old age she deserved to be surrounded by her dragons and find peace for herself.  
“I needn’t marry to take a lover,” Daenerys snapped as she came back to the present, why was he being so cruel? “It has not stopped me in the past.  
She watched as his jaw clenched, watched his fists clench as he fought jealousy that he no longer had a right to feel. He had chosen this path and for a moment, Daenerys felt small and mean and wanted him to hurt as she did.  
“Perhaps the next one will touch me better, know my body better. I will be able to cry out his name without fear of someone overhea…”  
He rushed forward without warning, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her against him and kissing her roughly. He plundered her mouth with his tongue and he was not gentle. Daenerys came alive under his touch, pushing her body closer, grabbing his hair and pulling. He grunted at the pain, their teeth crashing together before he bit her bottom lip in retribution. She shrieked slightly, angling her head to his, trying to take over the kiss. Her skirts were lifted, breeches pushed down and he thrust roughly inside of her with barely any warning. They rode each other, urging each other on with thrusts and rolls of hips and flexes deep inside. Their lips never lift each others, words of love didn’t make it to sound, and the way Daenerys tumbled over the edge, clenching around him tightly, had him following her not very long after.  
Jon buried his head in the crook of her neck as he released and Daenerys was breathing heavily against him. Her touch turned gentle, holding him to her as she ran her fingers through his curls. For long moments they just held each other, knowing when they let go it would be over. For Daenerys, it felt like coming home. For so long she believed she was alone in the world. She was losing her husband and her only remaining family all at once. For Jon, it felt like his heart was cracking in his chest. As much as he loved her, he could not move past the shared bloodline. As he held her now, the thought didn’t disturb him as much as it should. When he released her the poison would set in, though.  
They made the decision together, with one final soft and lingering kiss that said more than any words ever could, they pulled apart, cleaned up and fixed their clothes. Neither said anything until Daenerys went to leave and turned with her hand on the door.  
“They will be on us in less than a week, if Bran is to be believed. If we have a hope to win, we need to come up with a plan tomorrow. We need to figure out where we will meet them so that they do not come here and attack Winterfell, your home.”  
His chest burned when he looked at her. She was giving him her blessing to move on, in her quiet way. She was so full of grace and poise, even when her lips were swollen from his kisses. He knew that he had broken her heart and yet she continued to do the right thing. She could climb upon Drogon, call Rhaegal to her, and they could all fly away from here. She may have been born in Westeros, but she had been raised in Essos. She did not have to stay here and fight in this strange land. Yet she did.  
“The day that I married you will always be one of the greatest days of my life. Loving you was an honor.” He watched her face crumple, saw the tears spring to those beautiful purple and eyes, and had taken a step towards her before he could think.  
“I changed my mind. You are the cruelest person that I have ever met.” With that she turned and fled the room, a long blonde hair on his tunic and her perfume in the air, the only signs that she had ever been there.


End file.
